c 


HARVARD   COLLEGE 


CLASS   OF   1895 


BACCALAUREATE  SERMON 

BACCALAUREATE  HYMN,  CLASS  DAY  ORATION 

CLASS  POEM,  IVY  ORATION,  ODE 


CAMBRIDGE,  MASS. 
Press  of  Edward  W.  Wheeler 

1895 


HARVARD   COLLEGE 


CLASS   OF   1895 


BACCALAUREATE  SERMON 

BACCALAUREATE  HYMN,  CLASS  DAY  ORATION 

CLASS  POEM,  IVY  ORATION,  ODE 


CAMBRIDGE,  MASS. 
Press  of  Edward  W.  Wheeler 

1895 


I 

CLASS    COMMITTEE. 


WINTHROP    AMES. 
THORNDIKE    SPALDING. 
JAMES    PURDON. 


C/ass  Secretary. 
ALBERT    HARDING    NEWMAN. 


Baccalaureate  Sermon. 

BY    WILLIAM    LAWRENCE,    D.  D. 

Isaiah  LI:  I.  " Hearken  to  me,  ye  that  follow  after  righteous- 
ness, ye  that  seek  the  Lord :  look  ufito  the  rock  whence  ye  are  hewn." 

This  is  an  appeal  to  the  past. 

The  prophet  was  trying  to  arouse  the  people  to  higher  ambitions 
and  a  nobler  life.  He  had  reasoned  with  them,  had  spurred  them 
with  a  fear  of  God's  judgments,  had  fired  them  with  a  glimpse  of 
the  future  and  of  the  promises  to  those  that  seek  the  Lord.  And 
then,  in  the  text,  he  struck  their  sense  of  honor  and  loyalty  by 
an  appeal  to  the  past.  Their  history  though  checquered  had 
been  honorable.  Their  father,  Abraham,  in  the  spirit  of  faith 
had  migrated  to  the  west  and  settled  in  a  new  country.  From 
small  beginnings  they  had  grown  to  be  a  great  people.  Illustri- 
ous names  crowded  their  annals,  faith  and  patriotism  were  the 
watchwords  of  their  fathers,  deeds  of  chivalry  were  celebrated  in 
their  songs.  It  was  of  such  stuff  that  they  were  made,  of  such  a 
history  that  they  came  forth,  therefore  the  prophet  felt  and  had  a 
right  to  feel  that  an  appeal  to  the  past  would  rouse  in  them  the 
noblest  ambitions.  "  Look  unto  the  rock  whence  ye  are  hewn," 
is  his  cry,  "  and  unto  Abraham  your  father."  Such  an  appeal  is 
the  privilege  of  those  nations  that  have  behind  them  a  long  and 
noble  history.  Other  peoples  have  their  sources  of  inspiration, 
new  countries  have  the  great  stimulus  of  youth.  But  this  is  one 
of  the  privileges  of  honorable  years. 

Men  of  the  Class  of  Ninety-five,  you  are  gathered  here  this 
afternoon  to  catch  some  fire  from  off  this  altar  and  to  carry  it 
with  you  through  life.  In  a  few  days  you  will  pass  out  the 
college  gate  and,  with  happy  memories  of  Harvard  in  the  back- 
ground, your  thoughts  will  be  intent  on  the  future.     I  might  try 


to  strike  the  several  notes  of  the  prophet :  I  could  tell  you  from 
the  lives  of  some  of  my  own  college  mates  of  how  God's  judg- 
ments do  fall  upon  those  that  seek  unrighteousness, —  the  sermon 
caught  from  a  few  unhappy  and  cursed  lives  would  speak 
stronger  words  than  any  prophetic  warnings.  You  would 
respond  with  eagerness  to  an  appeal  to  the  future  and  to  the 
rewards  that  come  to  them  that  seek  the  right.  But  my  sole 
appeal  to-day  is  to  the  past.  I  want  to  lead  you  to  a  study  of  a 
few  of  the  early  principles  of  Harvard's  history  and  thus  to  a 
few  of  the  principles  of  what  I  think  should  be  a  Harvard  man's 
character. 

And  I  am  the  more  glad  to  take  this  line  to-day  because  there 
is  growing  up  a  feeling  among  many  even  cultivated  people,  that 
a  university  can  be  created  without  a  history,  that  large  funds  and 
wise  management  may  accomplish  for  a  university  in  a  few  years 
all  that  centuries  of  history  can  do.  That  there  is  an  element  of 
truth  in  this,  we  all  agree.  That  certain  studies  and  scientific 
researches  are  not  dependent  upon  historic  surroundings  and 
a  rich  atmosphere  of  culture  is  true.  But  if  a  university  has  for 
its  work  also  the  development  of  the  whole  man,  growth  in  culture 
and  the  encouragement  of  the  humanities,  then  surely  historic 
associations,  a  noble  lineage,  ancient  memories  and  an  atmophere 
enriched  with  generations  of  culture  have  their  great  influence. 
And  it  is  from  these  often  that  the  student  gains  his  noblest  aspira- 
tions.    Let  us  look  then  unto  the  rock  whence  we  are  hewn. 

As  the  freshman  just  arrived  from  his  distant  home,  first  passes 
through  the  college  gate,  he  reads  upon  the  wall  a  legend  which 
strikes  a  new  note  in  his  life. 

"AFTER     GOD     HAD    CARRIED     US    SAFE    TO    NEW     ENGLAND    AND    WEE    HAD 

BUILDED    OUR    HOUSES, 

PROVIDED    NECESSARIES    FOR    OUR   LIVELIHOOD, 

REARED    CONVENIENT    PLACES    FOR    GOD's    WORSHIP 

AND    SETTLED    THE     CIVILL    GOVERNMENT, 

ONE    OF    THE     NEXT    THINGS     WE    LONGED    FOR 

AND    LOOKED     AFTER    WAS     TO    ADVANCE    LEARNING 

AND    PERPETRATE    IT     TO    POSTERITY, 

DREADING    TO    LEAVE    AN    ILLITERATE    MINISTRY 

TO    THE    CHURCHES     WHEN    OUR    PRESENT    MINISTERS 

SHALL    LIE    IN    THE    DUST." 


It  is  a  voice  from  the  past,  from  "New  England's  first  fruits." 
For  several  years  the  student  lives  within  the  associations  of 
the  college  ;  the  very  buildings  are  living  voices  of  men  long  dead, 
the  trees  whisper  of  ancient  memories,  the  atmosphere  is  full  of 
history.  And  then,  as  in  yonder  Theatre  he  takes  his  degree, 
his  eye  catches  the  Latin  legend  above  him  and  in  reading  those 
lines  the  last  note  of  his  college  life  is  struck. 

"HERE    IN    THE    FOREST-GROWN 

UNCULTIVATED    LANDS, 

ENGLISHMEN   EXILED    FROM    HOME, 

IN     THE     SIXTEEN     HUNDRED     AND     THIRTY-SIXTH     YEAR    AFTER    CHRIST'S 

BIRTH, 

IN    THE    SIXTH    YEAR    AFTER    BRINGING    THEIR    COLONY  HITHER, 

THINKING    THAT    BEFORE    ALL    ELSE    THEY  OUGHT  TO  CULTIVATE  WISDOM 

FOUNDED    BY    ACT    OF    THE    PEOPLE    A    SCHOOL, 
AND    DEDICATED    TO    CHRIST    AND    THE    CHURCH  THIS  THEIR    FOUNDATION 

WHICH    BEING    INCREASED    BY    THE    BOUNTY    OF  JOHN  HARVARD 

AND    BY    LOVERS    OF    LEARNING  HERE  AND  ABROAD  CONTINUALLY  HELPED 

AND    FINALLY    ENTRUSTED    TO    THE    LOYAL    CARE    OF    ITS    CHILDREN, 

FROM    A    SMALL    BEGINNING    BROUGHT    TO   A    MIGHTIER    GROWTH 

BY     PRESIDENTS     FELLOWS     OVERSEERS     AND    FACULTY 

WITH    COUNSEL,     FORESIGHT    AND  CARE, 

TO    THE    BEST    ARTS,    TO    VIRTUES,    SOCIAL    AND    PERSONAL, 

HAS    GIVEN    AND    STILL    GIVES    CULTURE. 

THEY    THAT     BE     INSTRUCTED     SHALL     SHINE     LIKE     THE     GLORY    OF    THE 

FIRMAMENT, 
AND    THEY    THAT    EDUCATE    MANY    TO    RIGHTEOUSNESS 
LIKE    THE    STARS    FOR    CEASELESS    ETERNITIES." 

In  the  light  of  these  two  inscriptions  let  us  gather  together  a 
few  of  the  elements  which  inhere  in  the  foundation  and  history  of 
Harvard  and  see  how  they  appeal  to  our  sense  of  duty  and  privi- 
lege.    "  Dedicated  to  Christ  and  the  Church  this  their  foundation." 

The  one  feature  that  stands  out  in  the  beginnings  of  this  col- 
lege is  the  deep  religious  spirit.  Whatever  opinion  one  may  have 
about  the  function  of  religion  in  a  university  to-day,  there  is  no 
question  as  to  what  its  position  was  in  the  early  history  of  the 
college. 

It  was  not  a  mere  coincidence  that  our  Puritan  fore-fathers 
happening  to  be  men  of  strong  religous  conviction  and  also  of 
English  University  education  founded  a  college  in  the  sixth  year 
of  the  colony. 


The  Christian  religion  is  at  the  basis  of  our  civil  as  well  as 
educational  institutions.  Christ  and  His  Church  are  necessarily 
and  essentially  the  patrons  of  culture,  the  inspirers  of  education 
and  the  founders  of  colleges.  There  have  been  times  when  the 
church  has  been  recreant  to  her  trust;  but  history  has  shown  that 
in  the  long  run  and  considering  the  contemporary  conditions  she 
has  been  faithful.  The  past  has  shown  us  that  with  religion  at  the 
basis  of  our  civilization,  culture  will  be  sustained,  sound  learning 
encouraged  and  character  upbuilt.  But  we  have  had  no  assuring 
evidence  from  history  or  from  modern  life  that  without  Christ  and 
His  Church,  character  will  remain  true  and  strong,  sound  learning 
be  upheld,  or  culture  sustained,  pure,  deep  and  ennobling. 

Possibly  this  sounds  commonplace  and  conventionally  sermonic. 
But  it  is  a  commonplace  which  occasionally  needs  repetition,  for 
one  hears  now  and  again  from  men  whose  whole  lineage  is  full  of 
Christian  saints  and  whose  character  is  saturated  with  the  Christian 
prayers,  hopes  and  theologies  of  their  fathers,  that  Christ  and  His 
Church,  having  done  their  work  must  now  give  way  to  the  ascen- 
dency of  culture,  reason  and  ethics. 

Granted,  however,  that  such  men  are  not  representative,  but 
rather  the  results,  of  an  over-ripe  culture,  there  is  a  great  body  of 
men  of  education,  true,  high-minded  and  of  Christian  ideals,  who  be- 
lieve that  Christ  and  His  Church  are  at  the  basis  of  our  civilization, 
who  sympathize  with  Christian  truth,  who  feel  that  ideally  the 
Church  is  the  stronghold  of  the  highest  type  of  character,  but  who 
do  not  practically  turn  hand,  voice  or  life  to  the  sustaining  of  the 
Church  of  Christ  to-day. 

We  hear  that  the  theology  is  out  of  date,  that  the  average  relig- 
ion is  Philistine,  that  the  worship  is  crude,  that  the  ethics  are  out 
of  perspective,  and  that  the  Church  lacks  in  intelligence,  in  force, 
and  in  character. 

Perhaps  it  is  so ;  it  may  be  that  the  critics  are  right.  But  I 
know  of  no  more  ignorant  critic  than  a  busy  man  who  gets  his 
theology  from  the  newspapers  and  reviews,  his  Christian  ethics 
from  the  reading  of  ecclesiastical  controversies,  and  his  knowl- 
edge of  the  work  from  emotional  exhorters,  and  who  never  goes  to 
the  original  sources, —  Christ  and  the  Church  itself. 

What  then  the  Church  needs,  even  if  the  criticism  be  only  par- 
tially true,  is  the  loyalty  and  devotion  of  men  of  culture,  men  who, 


by  refinement,  will  keep  the  Church  from  Philistinism,  by  openness 
of  mind  will  save  her  from  narrowness,  and  by  singleness  of  pur- 
pose will  keep  her  true  to  her  high  aims. 

Do  not  understand  this  as  an  appeal  for  more  ministers, —  not 
that.  I  simply  want  to  say  that  when  you  leave  college  and  get  to 
work  in  your  calling  and  settle  in  your  home,  there  will  be  various 
other  interests  that  will  claim  you,  clubs,  professional  and  social 
and  political  duties ;  but  there  will  be  one  institution  in  the  town 
that  has  somehow  outlived  all  others,  an  institution  that  has  sus- 
tained the  ideal  of  the  Christian  family,  that  encourages  education, 
inspires  character,  upholds  the  brotherhood  of  man,  and  has  the 
charm  of  charity, —  the  Christian  Church.  It  needs  you,  your  per- 
sonal interest,  your  sympathy,  your  correction  and  your  life.  And 
you  need  it ;  for  without  it  and  what  it  represents  you  will  be  in 
danger  of  sinking  into  professional  Philistinism  yourself,  into  the 
heavy  commercial  spirit  or  the  ordinary  educated  machine  that 
makes  money,  turns  it  over,  spends  some  and  leaves  the  rest,  with- 
out having  left  the  uplifting  spirit  that  Christ  reveals  to  us. 

One  can  speak  of  this  with  the  greater  confidence  in  the  shadow 
of  Harvard,  for  by  her  charter  and  traditions  the  College  stands 
with  open  face  and  clear  eye  towards  the  truth. 

The  founders  of  this  college  had  their  deep  convictions ;  much 
of  their  theology  is  not  our  theology,  but  they  had  such  confidence 
in  Christ  as  the  truth  and  in  His  Church  as  the  interpreter  and 
friend  of  the  truth  that  they  bid  the  college  go  on  in  the  search 
for  truth,  knowing  that  rightly  conceived,  every  discovery  of  truth 
in  every  department  of  knowlege  would  lead  to  the  glory  of  Christ 
and  His  Church. 

Men  have  sometimes  tried  to  set  the  final  interpretation  of 
Christian  truth  in  one  or  another  century,  in  the  day  of  Athanasius 
or  Luther  or  Calvin  and  to  close  the  interpretation  of  the  scrip- 
tures then.  Our  fathers  in  the  college  seal  laid  the  Bible  wide 
open  to  the  light  of  all  centuries  and  across  it  wrote  the  legend, 
"  Veritas:' 

The  truth  is  the  test  of  thought  and  life  here.  Whatever 
faults  Harvard  may  have,  she  is  sensitive  to  the  spirit  of  truth. 
With  patient,  unflagging  devotion  and  the  keenest  enthusiasm  the 
student  reaches  out  for  the  truth. 


8 

That  same  spirit  follows  the  son  of  Harvard  through  life  if  he 
be  true  to  the  spirit  of  his  college.  In  the  interpretation  of 
the  law  and  the  defenee  of  his  client,  the  advocate  seeks  no  mean 
or  technical  success,  but  the  truth  ;  in  the  church  the  minister 
desires  not  first  to  defend  his  own  position,  but  to  know  what  is 
the  truth;  in  politics  the  legislator  or  the  voter  thinks  not  first  of 
party  success  and  popular  legislation,  but  what  is  on  the  whole  in 
the  name  of  and  for  the  cause  of  the  truth  ;  in  the  intricate  social 
problems  the  citizen's  chief  concern  is  not  the  protection  of  his 
own  interests,  the  strengthening  of  his  own  prejudices  or  the 
defence  of  his  own  class,  but  what  on  the  whole  will  lead  men  to 
the  truth.  Of  you  as  well  as  of  those  whose  names  are  written  in 
yonder  Hall,  Lowell  speaks  in  his  Commemoration  Ode : 

"Those  love  truth  best  u> ho  to  themselves  are  true, 
And  what  they  dare  to  dream  of  dare  to  do." 

Another  characteristic  stands  out  from  the  legends  with  which 
I  began  this  sermon  and  from  the  history  of  the  college.  "  Founded 
by  act  of  the  people," — the  college  was  the  creation  of  the  whole 
community.  From  the  General  Court  she  received  her  charter 
and  financial  aid  and  through  it  she  was  governed.  The  college 
never  has  been  nor  can  be  separate  and  distinct  from  the  people 
or  their  dearest  interests.  Public  spirit  moves  through  her  as  the 
winds  from  the  surrounding  country  sweep  through  her  elms. 
The  pulse  of  the  people  can  be  felt  here  and  the  movements  of 
the  nation  anticipated. 

How  suggestive  is  the  letter  of  one  of  the  Fellows  of  the  College 
in  the  early  years  of  the  Revolution :  w  The  young  gentlemen 
have  already  taken  up  with  politics.  They  have  caught  the  spirit 
of  the  time.  Their  declamations  and  forensic  disputes  breathe 
the  spirit  of  liberty." 

It  is  not  without  its  meaning  to  us  that  under  yonder  elm 
Washington  first  took  command  of  the  American  Army  and  that 
the  Massachusetts  Legislature,  driven  from  the  State  House  by 
the  cannon  of  the  British  troops,  met  in  the  College  Chapel, 
or  that  the  College,  having  waited  for  a  century  and  a  half  before 
conferring  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Laws  to  men  outside  her  own 
number,  selected  George  Washington  as  the  first  to  whom    the 


honor  should  be  given.  Or,  to  take  a  later  scene,  in  the  early 
days  of  the  Civil  War  in  1861,  the  diary  of  the  treasurer  of  the 
college  tells  of  how  he  used  to  come  to  Cambridge  at  eight  in  the 
morning  to  drill  the  "  College  troops."  A  large  fraction  of  that 
company  of  students  which  marched  around  the  college  yard  were 
within  three  or  four  years  found  dead  upon  the  battle  field  and 
their  names  are  written  on  the  tablets  in  Memorial  Hall. 

The  community  has  given  the  college  man  the  privileges  in 
which  he  glories ;  the  college  man  rejoices  in  the  opportunity  to 
serve  the  community.     Public  spirit  finds  a  home  in  the  college. 

You  have  already  anticipated  my  application  of  this  thought, — 
your  duty  in  public  service.  The  upturning  of  crime  and  degra- 
dation in  our  greatest  city  suggests  a  form  of  action,  and  in  that 
our  brethren  of  the  Alumni  have  been  in  the  van.  There,  however, 
the  worst  feature  was  not  the  crime  of  trie  criminal  or  the  degra- 
dation of  already  degraded  office-holders,  but  the  lethargy  of  the 
city,  the  silent  abetting  of  the  crimes  by  masses  of  intelligent  people, 
the  selfishness  of  business  men  and  householders  who  would  rather 
bribe  than  have  their  peace  disturbed.  We  have  yet  to  learn  that 
every  citizen  has  his  public  duty. 

But  my  thoughts  to-day  are  in  quieter  lines.  Many  of  you  are 
not  going  to  the  largest  cities,  but  to  the  smaller  ones,  to  towns 
and  villages.  Degradation  in  a  mass  is  easily  recognized,  but 
when  scattered  through  smaller  communities  is  unnoticed.  The 
elements  that  exist  in  New  York  are  in  our  towns  and  villages, 
varied  of  course  in  extent  and  depth  ;  the  crime  is  there,  also  the 
degradation  and  the  lethargy.  Pure,  true,  unselfish  and  loyal 
citizenship  is  needed  throughout  the  country  as  well  as  in  the  city. 
Back  in  the  country  roads  vice  lurks  and  purity  waits  long  for 
succor.     Each  man's  duty  is  nearest  to  his  hand. 

There  are  two  other  suggestions  that  I  want  to  make  in  the 
application  of  public  spirit ;  they  are  simple  but  I  believe  that 
they  are  timely. 

Upon  our  common  school  system  democracy  stands.  That  the 
children  of  this  republic  receive  the  foundation  of  an  education 
and  gain  the  elements  of  a  firm  character  is  essential.  Because 
the  public  schools  are  concerned  with  the  rudiments  of  education 
and  with  children,  the  sentiment  has  sometimes  gone  abroad  that 


IO 

any  sensible,  average  American  can  undertake  the  responsibility 
of  our  schools.  The  public  schools  have  therefore  in  a  few  large 
cities  fallen  into  the  hands  of  politicians  and  the  institution  on 
which  our  public  safety  depends  has  become  the  football  of 
political  parties  and  ward-room  deals.  In  many  of  our  smaller 
cities  and  towns  the  management  of  the  schools  has  been  given 
to  men  who,  however  worthy  as  average  citizens,  have  not  the 
refined,  sympathetic  or  cultured  qualities  which  enable  them  to 
meet  the  demands  of  the  best  education  of  children.  To  the 
public  school  system  the  American  people  have  given  themselves 
with  marvelous  devotion ;  where  there  has  not  been  the  highest 
skill  there  has  been  at  least  the  greatest  self-sacrifice.  Serious 
and  mature  experience  are  showing  us  that  in  the  education  of 
children  of  the  tenderest  years  is  needed  the  nicest  skill,  the 
deepest  culture  and  the  richest  imagination.  There  is,  therefore, 
a  call  to-day  upon  the  public  spirit  of  university  men  ;  that  wher- 
ever they  may  be,  and  into  whatever  profession  they  may  enter, 
they  feel  a  responsibility  for  the  common  schools,  and  by  work 
and  sacrifice  do  their  part  in  strengthening  our  republic  at  its 
foundations. 

My  other  point  is  a  very  different  one.  This  nation  has,  we 
believe,  a  great  and  peculiar  mission  in  the  history  of  mankind. 
It  is  not  a  nation  formed  for  conquest  or  for  colonization.  The 
condition  of  nations  in  Europe  and  the  East,  with  their  great 
standing  armies,  exhausting  the  country,  eating  up  the  people's 
earnings,  creating  mutual  suspicion,  is  enough  to  make  angels 
weep.  That  writh  all  our  civilization,  arts,  culture  and  religion 
the  people  of  this  nineteenth  century  have  not  reached  a  higher 
point  of  national  comity  and  mutual  confidence  is  a  marvel. 
Much  has  been  done  in  the  last  half  century.  Much  remains  to 
be  done. 

It  becomes  the  educated  men  in  America  to  use  all  their  influ- 
ence in  keeping  this  nation  to  her  high  purpose,  that  of  giving  to 
the  world  the  example  of  a  people,  united,  free,  self-governed  and 
skilled  in  the  arts  of  peace. 

Let  each  man  do  his  part  towards  checking  the  spirit  of  jingo- 
ism and  insolence  towards  other  nations  that  occasionally  dis- 
graces our  national  councils  and  that  appeals  to  the  passions  and 


II 

self  pride  of  the  people.  Let  each  man  also  do  his  part  towards 
encouraging  a  spirit  which  will  make  our  relations  with  other 
nations  those  of  honor,  self-restraint  and  peace. 

Men  of  the  Class  of  Ninety-five :  By  a  few  suggestions  of  the 
past  I  have  tried  to  help  you  see  a  few  of  the  duties  of  the  future. 
For  generation  after  generation  this  college  has  received  from  the 
community,  its  officers  and  alumni,  untold  gifts,  the  fullest  devo- 
tion and  the  richest  sacrifice. 

You  now  stand  to  the  University  as  its  last,  and  we  trust,  its 
richest  fruit.  Here  you  have  dreamed  dreams  and  have  seen  visions. 
For  the  most  glorious  of  these  dreams  and  the  loveliest  of  these 
visions  you  will  be  held  responsible.  If  you  should  fail  of  your 
higher  purposes  in  life,  you  will  not  be  able  to  fall  back  upon  the 
excuse  that  the  highest  ideals  have  not  been  given  you,  for  they 
are  yours  now.  What  you  will  do  with  them,  remains  for  your- 
self to  answer. 

In  the  days  of  King  Charles  the  First,  a  young  man  of  the 
English  middle  class  took  his  degree  at  the  University  of  Cam- 
bridge. Although  no  book  records  it,  we  know  that  he  must 
have  had  visions  of  high  duty  and  privilege.  He  was  only  a 
humble  minister  and  weak  in  body,  but  he  was  also  as  one  of  his 
contemporaries  writes,  "  a  godly  gentleman  and  a  lover  of  learn- 
ing." His  vision  of  duty  carried  him  to  this  land.  Amidst  the 
poverty  and  hardships  of  the  day,  he  had  before  him  the  vision  of 
a  greater  people  ;  and  as  he  became  weaker  in  body,  the  dream 
and  memories  of  his  old  University  at  Cambridge  must  have 
beckoned  him  to  a  greater  opportunity.  The  little  community 
in  which  he  lived  was  planning  the  foundation  of  a  college.  To 
it  the  young  minister  gave  his  thought  and  prayers  ;  and  dying, 
John  Harvard  left  to  it  his  library  and  half  his  modest  fortune. 

While  the  memory  of  that  life  hovers  about  this  place,  the  men 
of  Harvard  will  have  an  inspiration  to  live  up  to  their  highest 
visions. 

"  Look  unto  the  rock  whence  ye  are  hewn."  Look  unto  your 
fathers,  and  take  courage,  and  may  God  be  with  you. 


Baccalaureate  1b?mn» 

HERBERT    HILARION    YEAMES. 
[To  be  sung  in  unison  to  the  tune  of  Duke  Street.] 

God  of  our  fathers,  by  Whose  hand, 
Led  step  by  step  since  time  began, 

Toward  one  high  end  divinely  planned 
Are  shaped  the  destinies  of  man; 

Though  clogged  by  weakness,  folly,  crime 
The  course  of  life  has  been,  must  be, 

We  trust  that  all  shall  reach  in  time 
The  consummation  aimed  by  Thee. 

Though  such  our  trust,  more  faith  we  need, 
More  light  through  earth-born  mists  to  shine, 

More  strength  the  cause  of  good  to  speed, 
More  love,  O  Lord,  for  Thee  and  Thine. 

Be  with  us  then  as  we  depart 

To  join  the  ranks  of    struggling  life ; 

Thine  inspiration  guide  each  heart, 

Thy  help  be  with  us  through  the  strife. 

May  we,  here  favored  to  receive 
Such  blessings,  others  also  bless; 

For  only  thus  may  we  achieve 

The  highest  joy,  the  best  success. 

We  too  would  consecrate  our  youth, 
And  tread  the  path  our  fathers  trod, 

To  fight  for  freedom  and  for  truth, 
To  live  for  man  and  live  for  God. 


Class  2>at>  Crercises, 


JUNE  21,  1895. 


Oitfei1  of  Etoci^  in  j&qdei^  Tfjeatre. 


♦  ♦  ♦  ♦  ♦ 


THE   REV.  FRANCIS   G.  PEABODY. 

EDWARD    HENRY   WARREN, 
WORCESTER,  MASS. 

CHARLES   MACOMB   FLANDRAU, 
ST.  PAUL,  MINNESOTA. 


11(0)  u  11  0 


ivy 

WALTER    KIRKPATRICK   BRICE, 
WASHINGTON,  D.  C. 


9l(^o 


CARLETON    ELDREDGE   NOYES, 
CAMBRIDGE,  MASS. 


Class  Oration. 

edward  henry  warren. 

Mr.  Marshal,   Classmates,   and   Friends   of  the  Class  : 

During  the  last  quarter  of  a  century  the  attention  of  the  public 
has  been  drawn,  as  not  before,  to  the  growth  of  Harvard  as  a 
University.  It  has  been  made  evident  that  those  in  control  had 
conceived  an  ideal  of  a  complete  university  and  that  they  were 
making  powerful  and  persistent  efforts  to  raise  every  department 
to  that  ideal.  Schools  in  theology,  in  law,  and  in  medicine 
had,  it  is  true,  long  been  in  existence,  but  both  in  their  oppor- 
tunities and  in  their  requirements  they  have  undergone  a  revolu- 
tion. Less  than  twenty-five  years  ago  in  the  Law  School,  for 
example,  a  two  years'  course  of  study  was  offered,  but  the 
different  subjects  were  taught  only  in  alternate  years,  so  that 
which  half  of  the  subjects  a  student  pursued  first  depended 
on  the  chance  of  his  entering  in  an  odd  or  an  even  year.  Strik- 
ing as  have  been  the  changes  in  these  schools,  long  recognized 
both  here  and  in  Europe  as  proper  parts  of  a  university,  growth 
has  not  been  confined  to  them.  A  Scientific  School,  after  many 
anxious  years  adrift,  has  at  last  rested  on  solid  ground ;  novel 
departments  have  been  created,  still  subjected  to  keen  and  not 
altogether  serious  criticism,  but  alert  and  active,  opening  new 
territory  to  scientific  learning ;  the  Observatory  and  the  Museum 
have  taken  their  places  among  the  great  centres  of  research  ;  and 
a  Graduate  School  has  been  established,  so  rich  in  provisions 
both  for  investigation  and  for  training,  that  much  significance  has 
been  added  to  the  description  of  Harvard  as  the  chief  seat  of 
learning  on  this  continent. 

But  in  all  this,  what  of  the  College  ?  It  is  plain  that  the  atten- 
tion bestowed  on  these  rising  departments  must  have  meant  a 
reduction  in  the  relative  amount  of  attention  which  it  had  been 
the  policy  of  previous  administrations  to  bestow  upon  the  College. 
It   is   easy   to   draw   the    inference    that  the  College,  which  for 


i6 

generations  has  held  the  first  place  in  the  estimation  and  the 
affections  of  the  people,  has  been  neglected  in  the  interests  of  the 
other  departments  of  the  University.  How  far  is  this  inference 
justified  ?  Have  the  constructive,  transforming  forces,  which 
have  done  much  for  other  departments,  been  of  much  avail  also 
for  the  College  ?  Has  the  College  been  allowed  simply  to  develop 
further  towards  ideals  long  followed,  or  have  the  old  been 
condemned  and  the  College  adapted  to  new  and  more  adequate 
ideals  ?     These  are  questions  not  quickly  to  be  answered. 

Under  the  theocracy  of  the  Puritans,  the  College  owed  its  ex- 
istence to  the  theologic  want  of  the  people.  This  was  not  because 
the  Puritans  were  a  narrow  sect :  the  universities  which  sprang  up 
in  Europe  during  the  sixteenth  and  seventeenth  centuries  had  like- 
wise a  theological  character.  It  was  the  sentiment  of  the  age  that 
the  most  worthy  object  of  a  higher  education  was  to  fit  young 
men  to  defend  certain  theological  beliefs.  Trace  education  back 
as  far  as  we  can,  and  we  find  it  associated  with  the  class  of  men 
called  priests,  those  whose  part  it  was  to  inquire  into  the  mean- 
ing of  man's  life,  into  his  relations  with  the  material  objects 
about  him,  with  the  men  who  were  his  fellow  creatures,  and  with  the 
vague  something  that  was  felt  to  be  the  creator  of  all.  And  we 
find  that  these  men,  at  first  concerning  themselves  with  all  these 
relations,  tend  to  confine  themselves  to  inquiry  into  the  relation 
of  man  to  creator,  touching  indeed  the  other  relations,  but  for  the 
most  part  treating  them  as  so  subordinate  as  safely  to  be  left 
to  the  experience  of  every  day  life.  And  as  inquiries  into  this 
most  important  relation  resulted  in  different  answers,  the  exclusive 
devotion  of  higher  education  to  religious  matters  was  intensified. 
Men  now  fell  into  dread,  not  only  lest  they  should  be  but  little 
informed,  but  lest  they  or  their  children  should  be  wrongly 
informed.  What  more  worthy,  then,  than  to  train  young  men  to 
lead  the  community  in  a  way  free  from  error  ? 

Such  was  the  thought  of  the  Puritans,  and  they  framed  their 
college  course  according  to  it.  Latin,  the  traditional  language  of 
the  Church,  was  to  be  mastered  before  entrance.  In  college 
more  than  a  third  of  the  time  was  spent  upon  the  original 
languages  of  the  Bible,  nearly  a  half  was  devoted  to  theology,  and 
logic  and  rhetoric  treated  as  servants  to  theology ;  natural  science 


i7 

was  practically  unknown,  no  profane  literature  was  studied,  even 
in  philosophy  ethics  soon  fell  into  the  background  and  disputatious 
logic  held  foremost  place.  It  was  far  more  like  a  modern  theo- 
logical school  than  a  modern  college, — in  fact  it  was  not  con- 
sidered necessary  to  have  a  theological  school,  distinct  from  the 
college,  till  as  late  as  1815. 

The  Puritans  are  entitled  to  respect  for  their  courage  and  self- 
sacrifice  in  making  provision  for  any  higher  education  in  the  dis- 
tress of  their  circumstances,  but  it  is  evident  that  such  a  course 
as  they  framed  was  inadequate.  It  may  very  possibly  have  trained 
excellent  Puritan  ministers,  but,  even  in  the  first  century  of  the 
College's  existence,  more  than  half  of  the  graduates  did  not  enter 
the  ministry.  These  men  do  not  seem  to  have  been  much  con- 
sidered ;  the  studies  must  have  been  distasteful  to  them  while  in 
college  and  have  proved  of  little  profit  in  after  life.  And  as  the 
zeal  for  theological  training  flagged,  the  inadequateness  of  the 
course  grew  increasingly  plain.  The  authorities  felt  that  some 
change  must  be  made,  and  they  decided  to  give  freer  play  to  the 
influence  of  the  Renaissance.  It  is  a  paradox  that  the  college 
which  for  generations  required  its  students  to  speak  only  in 
Latin  while  in  the  college  yard  should  have  paid  comparatively 
little  attention  to  the  classic  Latin  authors  as  late  as  1750,  and 
should  have  regarded  the  introduction  of  Caesar's  Commentaries 
at  even  a  later  date  as  an  event  worthy  of  record.  Latin,  as 
favored  by  the  churchmen,  and  Latin,  as  favored  by  the  scholars 
of  the  Renaissance,  were  quite  different :  the  churchmen  thought 
the  ability  to  write  and  speak  in  Latin  was  indispensable  because 
this  had  been  the  usage  for  centuries  ;  the  scholars  of  the  Renais- 
sance thought  acquaintance  with  the  classic  writings  in  Latin  and 
Greek  was  invaluable  because  it  cultivated  a  taste  for  beauty.  It 
had  long  been  an  ugly  world  and,  now  that  the  aesthetic  sensibil- 
ities were  once  more  quickened,  expressions  of  the  beautiful  fas- 
cinated men.  Education  under  the  scholars  of  the  Renaissance 
became  a  synonym  for  instruction  in  Latin  and  Greek.  It  is  not 
unjust  to  charge  against  them  that  their  influence  tended  to  the 
exclusion  of  all  other  subjects  of  study  so  that  Latin  and  Greek 
should  be  uncramped. 

It  was  to  this  influence  that  the  governing  boards  of  Harvard, 
while  retaining  much  of  the  old  theological  training,  decided  to 


i8 

give  freer  play.  The  men  who  were  graduated  a  hundred  clas 
ago  had  received  an  education  in  which  both  the  theological  and 
the  classical  ideals  had  had  influence.  They  had  been  given 
solid  religious  instruction  and  had  been  well  trained  in  logic  and 
declamation ;  they  knew  a  great  deal  about  the  works  of  the 
classic  authors  of  Rome  and  Greece,  and  the  languages  in  which 
those  works  had  been  written  ;  they  had  studied  a  little  about 
metaphysics  and  political  law,  and  had  been  obliged  to  attend  a 
few  lectures  in  history  and  botany.  Of  geography  and  arith- 
metic they  knew  less  than  does  the  lad  of  to-day  who  enters  a 
High  School ;  in  English  they  had  received  all  their  instruction 
at  the  hands  of  the  professor  of  Oriental  languages  ;  and  some 
of  them  might  have  studied  French,  but  only  if  they  had  thought 
it  more  important  than  Hebrew. 

In  many  ways  this  course  was  worse  adapted  to  the  time  than 
the  theological  training  had  been  to  its  time.  The  theological 
training  had,  indeed,  given  exclusive  attention  to  a  single  line  of 
inquiry  about  the  relations  of  man  to  the  universe,  but  it  had,  in 
its  way,  attempted  to  solve  the  problems  of  life.  The  Renais- 
sance made  no  such  attempt.  The  thoughts  of  the  classic 
authors  were  admitted  to  be  ill-adapted  to  modern  needs,  —  it  was 
not  the  thoughts,  but  the  form  of  these  thoughts  that  was  held 
dear.  The  object  of  education  became  not  intellectual  inquiry, 
but  intellectual  polish.  So  highly  was  this  polish  prized  by  the 
classical  humanists  that  they  disregarded  the  fact  that  to  only  a 
few  men  would  such  polish  be  more  than  a  very  small  force  in 
their  lives ;  they  were  not  troubled  because  their  system  resulted 
in  an  extreme  cultivation  of  the  memory  to  a  neglect  of  the 
other  faculties  of  their  students'  minds ;  and  at  a  time  when 
modern  society  was  shaping  new  institutions  and  even  when 
modern  inquiry  was  growing  rich  with  discoveries  in  natural 
science,  they  kept  aloof,  dreading  to  be  disturbed  from  their 
worship  of  ancient  languages. 

Spite  of  all  this,  their  influence  upon  education  has  been  im- 
mense and  is  by  no  means  yet  spent.  In  1862  an  educational 
commission  in  England  reported  that  they  found  the  curriculum 
in  the  preparatory  schools  practically  unchanged  from  that  which 
had  been  framed  under  the  influence  of    the  Renaissance,  and 


*9 

the  curricula  in  American  colleges  of  the  present  time  have  un- 
mistakable evidences  of  the  influence  of  the  Renaissance  ideals. 

Such  a  condition  of  affairs  as  this  would  never  have  been 
allowed  had  the  community  given  its  higher  education  close 
scrutiny,  but  the  best  energies  of  the  community  were  absorbed 
in  other  interests  and  the  higher  education  was  taken  none  too 
seriously.  Men  were,  on  the  whole,  content  if  their  sons  were 
taught  the  usual  things,  and  it  thus  became  the  proper  thing  for 
young  gentlemen  who  had  the  means  to  enjoy  a  higher  education 
to  know  Latin  and  Greek.  These  studies  were  not  supposed  to 
be  of  much  use  to  them  in  the  activities  of  their  lives  ;  they  were 
rather  regarded  as  fashionable  accomplishments,  and  fashionable 
accomplishments  do  not  depend  for  their  existence  upon  their 
usefulness. 

And  the  hands  of  those  who  upheld  Latin  and  Greek  were 
also  strengthened  because  it  was  not  quite  plain  what  should  be 
done  with  the  young  men  if  they  were  not  taught  Latin  and 
Greek.  Many  sensible  persons  who  were  not  blind  to  the  defects 
of  the  classic  curriculum  clung  to  it  because  they  knew  not 
whither  to  turn.  Discipline  became  the  watchword.  The  ability 
to  do  distasteful  work  was  loudly  commended.  Mathematics 
were  put  to  greater  service.  And  yet,  as  if  conscious  of  their 
weakness,  instructors  preferred  to  lighten  the  stress  laid  upon 
the  curriculum.  Masters  of  the  great  schools  in  England  have 
said  that  the  value  of  the  training  came  not  so  much  from  the 
intellectual  work  which  they  guided  as  from  the  tone  of  the 
schools  and  the  discipline  of  the  great  games  ;  and  in  this  coun- 
try, also,  one  of  the  professors  at  Yale  University  has  recently 
made  a  similar  plea  for  that  institution. 

Out  beyond  these  forces,  which  had  sprung  from  the  thought 
of  past  centuries,  we  are  swept  upon  new  forces  whose  limits  we 
cannot  see  and  whose  power  we  tremble  to  estimate.  There  is 
vastness  and  tumult  as  of  an  ocean.  New  interpretations  of  truth 
and  duty  had  found  voice,  and  could  not  be  silenced.  The  spirit 
that  had  been  the  life  of  the  Reformation  did  not  die  at  its  close. 
The  suspicion  spread  that  the  accepted  truth  might  not  be  the 
essential  truth.  Formerly  men  had  been  told  that  certain  doc- 
trines were  the  truth,  and  had  believed  because  they  had  been 


20 

told,  but  once  that  they  had  become  dissatisfied  with  the  telling 
and  demanded  to  inquire  for  themselves,  all  doctrines  were  put 
to  new  tests.  If  the  old  doctrines  had  been  untrue,  what  proof 
was  there  that  the  new  doctrines  were  not  also  untrue?  Inter- 
pretations of  truth  multiplied  ;  churches  became  sects,  and  sects 
became  factions,  the  members  of  every  faction  still  confident  that 
they  had  grasped  the  essential  truth  and  that  all  those  who  dif- 
fered from  them  were  hugging  error. 

Could  there  be  but  one  result  of  all  this  ?  The  time  came 
when  the  truth  looked  very  large  and  the  factions  looked  very 
small.  Thoughtful  men  had  it  forced  home  upon  them  that  it 
was  absurd  to  suppose  that  any  of  these  factions  had  seen  the 
whole  truth.  Who,  then,  did  know  the  truth  ?  Men  saw  that 
they  were  in  the  midst  of  a  universe  the  beginnings  and  the  ends 
of  which  were  hidden  beyond  the  horizon  of  the  highest  intelli- 
gence to  which  they  had  attained. 

It  was  this  realization  of  incompleteness  that  made  the  nine- 
teenth century.  The  questions  of  what  man  is  and  why  he  is 
did  not  cease  to  be  asked ;  the  old  answers  were  not  believed  but 
new  answers  were  sought.  Men  had,  before,  tended  to  confine 
their  inquiry  to  the  relation  of  man  to  creator,  because  it  seemed 
to  them  that  this  relation  comprised  all  others  and  from  an 
understanding  of  it  could  be  deduced  the  others.  They  sought 
to  know  the  whole,  confident  that  thus  they  would  know  the  parts. 
But  now  they  saw  that  the  attempt  to  gird  the  whole  truth  was  a 
failure.  They  saw  that  the  whole  truth  would  not  be  known 
through  the  work  of  one  class  of  men,  or  of  one  age,  or  even  of 
one  earth.  It  was  only  possible  to  learn  about  the  parts,  and 
from  this  partial  knowledge  to  gain  insight  into  the  complete 
truth.  Thus  it  came  to  be  that  the  inquiry  of  man  concerned 
itself  with  his  relations  to  the  material  things  and  to  the  fellow- 
men  that  were  close  about  him.  The  effect  of  the  old  concep- 
tions had  been  to  stifle  investigation  ;  the  essential  truth  being 
known,  what  need  for  further  search  ?  With  the  new  concep- 
tions, however,  the  search  for  truth  began  in  earnest.  Human 
reason  set  to  work  to  prove  all  things  and  to  hold  fast  only  that 
which  was  good.  A  powerful  interest  in  the  present  was  gener- 
ated.    Men  felt  it  to  be  a  formative  time,  and  were  eager  to  learn 


21 

about  the  discoveries  and  conceptions  of  men  near  to  their  gen- 
eration, and  to  be  able  to  communicate  to  them  their  own  dis- 
coveries and  conceptions.  From  these  activities  resulted  an 
increase  of  knowledge  that  changed  the  earth  more  in  a  hundred 
years  than  it  had  changed  before  in  a  thousand. 

But  increase  in  knowledge  was  not  the  only  effect  upon  edu- 
cation of  this  revolt  from  the  rule  of  authority.  The  revolt  had 
been  inspired  by  the  belief  that  knowledge  of  the  truth  could  not 
be  monopolized  by  a  few  men.  It  maintained  the  right  of  every 
man  to  be  heard ;  it  put  its  confidence  in  the  wisdom  of  all  indi- 
viduals rather  than  the  wisdom  of  a  few  select  individuals.  It 
thus  became  the  means  of  giving  to  the  capacities  of  the  masses 
something  which  approached  adequate  recognition.  And  these 
capacities,  once  considered,  were  discovered  to  be  rich  with  pos- 
sibilities. To  make  these  possibilities  actual  became  the  purpose 
of  men  like  Rousseau  and  Pestalozzi.  New  things  were  asked 
of  education.  Formerly  the  masses  had  been  given  only  such 
little  education  as  would  enable  them  to  take  their  places  in  the 
fixed  order  of  things,  much  as  in  India  and  China  to-day  popular 
education  is  nearly  equivalent  to  instruction  in  the  usages  of  the 
castes.  Now  the  fixed  order  was  giving  way.  Opportunities 
were  opening  to  the  masses.  Education  must  look  not  to  the 
fixed  order,  but  to  the  opportunities.  Individuals  were  not  to  be 
taught  to  adapt  themselves  to  definite  conditions  ;  they  were  to 
be  fitted  to  rise  to  better  conditions.  The  best  ability  was  recog- 
nized to  be  adaptability  ;  not  learning,  but  development  became 
the  ideal  of  education. 

And  more.  As  the  many  rose  in  power,  the  tolerance  of  class 
distinctions  diminished.  Men  began  to  look  askance  at  such 
education  as  held  its  place  largely  because  it  was  the  customary 
evidence  of  social  position.  Scrutiny  has  grown  keener.  The 
people  no  longer  stand  open-mouthed  even  before  the  higher 
education,  regarding  it  as  something  akin  to  the  supernatural, 
justified  by  its  own  fineness,  out  of  relation  to  the  struggle  of  life. 
They  demand  that  it  shall  not  be  simply  a  luxury  for  leisure,  but 
shall  be  a  power  for  activity ;  they  are  willing  it  should  give 
grace  but  they  insist  it  shall  give  strength ;  they  are  not  satisfied 
that  the  best  education  shall   produce  only  men   who  are  orna- 


22 

ments  to  polite  society,  it  must  produce  men  who  are  forces  in 
the  community. 

Exposed  to  such  influences  the  old  systems  were  doomed  to 
founder.  Harvard  had  won  her  prestige  when  theological  and 
classical  ideals  were  followed  ;  could  she  hold  it  now  that  inves- 
tigation was  taking  the  place  of  dogma,  that  power  as  compared 
with  polish  was  assuming  large  importance,  and  that  the  devel- 
opment of  individuals,  involving  the  difficult  task  of  a  wise  recog- 
nition of  diversities,  must  be  attempted  ?  It  is  a  great  mistake 
to  suppose  that  the  College  adapted  itself  to  the  new  forces  quite 
as  a  matter  of  course.  This  adaptation  meant  a  revolution,  and 
revolutions  were  distasteful  to  the  Faculty.  Seventy  years  ago, 
the  Corporation  and  Overseers  had  provided  for  some  limited 
choice  of  their  work  by  the  students,  but  they  had  been  obliged 
to  do  so  against  the  judgment  of  the  Faculty.  When  knowledge 
was  being  multiplied  all  could  not  be  imparted.  Unless  much 
was  to  be  ignored,  choice  would  have  to  be  allowed.  Made 
inevitable  on  this  account,  choice  was  also  desirable  as  an  aid  to 
development.  Yet  under  such  conservative  control  was  the  col- 
lege that  when,  five  decades  ago,  an  elective  system  which  gave 
large  recognition  to  these  conditions  was  first  put  into  operation, 
in  timidity  it  was  soon  abandoned,  and  Jared  Sparks,  then  Presi- 
dent of  the  College,  said  that  it  had  been  given  a  fair  and  patient 
trial  and  soon  had  fallen  into  disfavor.  If  the  College  authori- 
ties were  blind,  the  community  was  not.  Complaints  began  to 
be  heard  that  Harvard  was  fast  losing  her  prestige,  and  was 
becoming  simply  a  High  School  for  a  portion  of  the  youth  of 
Boston  and  its  vicinity.     And  this  was  only  fifty  years  ago. 

With  the  opening  of  the  new  era  which  followed  the  Civil  War, 
it  cannot  be  doubted  that  Harvard  was  in  a  critical  situation.  It 
was  to  be  a  period  of  material  prosperity,  and  rich  resources  were 
to  be  available  for  progressive  institutions  of  learning.  Harvard 
for  forty  years  had  shown  little  facility  for  adaptation :  the  elective 
system  was  still  in  abeyance  ;  the  large  attention  given  to  the  study 
of  ancient  languages  had  been  little  diminished ;  Shakespeare 
was  not  yet  considered  worthy  of  a  place  in  the  curriculum ;  and 
the  only  mention  of  any  study  of  political  economy  in  the  cata- 
logue of  thirty  years  ago  is  made  under  the  head  of  religious 
instruction. 


23 

In  the  years  that  have  followed,  great  changes  have  been  made. 
Students  have  been  given  guarded  but  very  large  liberty  in  adapt- 
ing their  work  to  their  individual  needs.  While  there  has  been 
a  heavy  increase  of  courses  in  all  departments,  comparatively 
the  ancient  languages  and  mathematics  have  lost  ground.  The 
number  of  members  of  the  Faculty  devoted  to  modern  languages 
and  to  the  natural  and  political  sciences  has  been  quadrupled. 
And  these  changes  have  proved  themselves  to  have  been  in  the 
main  made  in  accordance  with  the  needs  of  the  times.  In  all 
branches  where  there  has  been  a  relative  decrease  of  courses 
there  has  also  been  a  decrease  in  the  attention  given  by  students ; 
and  with  the  single  exception  of  natural  science,  where  there  has 
been  a  relative  increase  of  courses  the  attention  given  by  students 
has  also  increased,  and  even  at  a  faster  rate.  Though  less  than 
half  of  the  courses  are  now  in  the  modern  languages  and  political 
science,  nearly  two-thirds  of  the  students'  work  is  devoted  to  them. 
The  most  noticeable  growth  in  the  number  of  students  is,  more- 
over, from  those  sections  of  the  country  where  the  elective  system 
has  not  yet  been  developed ;  and,  though  the  list  of  students  in 
the  whole  University  has  been  trebled,  the  regular  students  of  the 
College  form  to-day  very  nearly  the  same  part  as  they  did  in  1869. 

It  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  the  last  twenty-five  years  have 
seen  Harvard  College  not  neglected,  but  guided  toward  new  ideals 
with  such  boldness  and  wisdom  that  those  years  are  the  most  sig- 
nificant, as  they  are  the  most  successful,  it  has  known. 

It  is  striking  that  the  one  exception  to  the  parallel  in  the  relative 
increase  of  courses  with  a  relative  increase  of  interest  shown  by 
students  should  be  in  natural  science.  President  Eliot  was  trained 
a  chemist.  A  few  months  before  his  election  he  had  written  one 
or  two  magazine  articles  which  emphasized  the  value  of  scientific 
training.  In  many  quarters  there  was  fear  less  the  natural 
sciences  should  assume  altogether  undue  importance  under  his 
administration.  Opportunities  for  the  study  of  these  sciences  have 
indeed  been  multiplied;  nearly  a  fifth  of  the  courses  which  may 
be  counted  for  the  degree  of  Bachelor  of  Arts  are  devoted  to  them ; 
in  the  admission  requirements,  also,  they  have  been  given  large 
and  unaccustomed  recognition.  And  yet  the  regular  students  in 
the  College  show  relatively  less  interest  in  them  than  they  did 
when  his  administration  began. 


24 

It  would  be  rash  to  conclude  that  science  has  but  a  small  place 
in  a  liberal  education.  The  impartial,  patient,  earnest  search  for 
truth  which  results  in  science  is  one  of  the  most  precious  products 
of  modern  conceptions,  and  can  ill  afford  to  be  given  a  small  place 
in  any  education.  But  natural  science  is  only  one  part  of  science  : 
there  is  a  science  of  men  as  well  as  of  nature.  The  methods  of 
inquiry  which  found  their  readiest  application  to  nature  have  come 
to  be  used  also  in  inquiry  about  man.  History,  economics,  ethics 
are  seen  to  be  sciences.  In  philology  and  even  in  art  scientific 
methods  are  not  unknown. 

The  slight  attention  paid  to  the  study  of  natural  science  has 
quite  a  different  import.  It  indicates  that  young  men  seeking  a 
liberal  education  still  prefer  those  studies  in  which  man  is  the 
central  figure.  When  science  was  forcing  its  way  into  the  curri- 
culum the  lovers  of  the  humanities  cried  out  that  it  would  dull 
the  spirit  of  students  by  diverting  their  attention  away  from  the 
achievements  of  the  human  spirit  to  the  observation  of  forces  in 
which  the  will  of  man  is  no  part.  Yet  the  later  result  of  the 
introduction  of  science  has  been,  not  to  abandon  the  study  of 
man,  but  to  undertake  it  in  new  ways. 

And  the  scientific  study  of  man  affords  a  needed  corrective  to 
the  ideals  which  young  men  are  apt  to  conceive  while  in  college. 
The  study  of  the  humanities  gives  ideals, —  excellent  in  them- 
selves, but  without  any  sure  connection  with  present  conditions  in 
the  world.  They  are  apt  to  be  conceptions  of  what  the  world 
ought  finally  to  become,  of  what  should  be  the  goal  of  progress. 
They  are  so  far  removed  from  the  actual  world  that,  between, 
there  seems  a  great  gulf  fixed.  Men  who  hold  such  ideals  see 
that  the  present  is  bad,  but  how  to  adapt  it  to  their  ideals  they  do 
not  see.  By  decrying  the  present,  without  offering  any  practical 
way  of  improving  it,  they  simply  estrange  men  from  them  and 
from  their  ideals.  They  put  themselves  out  of  joint  with  their 
generation ;  the  generation  seems  hopeless  to  them,  and  they 
seem  worthless  to  the  generation. 

Ideals  not  based  upon  an  understanding  of  the  actual  can  only 
by  chance  be  effective.  Science  builds  upon  the  actual.  It  traces 
the  advance  of  mankind  step  by  step ;  it  inquires  into  existing 
conditions ;  it  feels  the  pressing  needs  of  the  time ;  it  sees  the 


25 

next  step  which  men  are  fitted  to  take  and  its  ideals  are  concerned, 
partly  with  the  goal  of  progress,  but  chiefly  with  this  next  step  in 
progress.  It  is  such  ideals  that  the  community  will  follow.  Men 
who  conceive  them  are  of  inestimable  worth.  They  point  out  the 
bad,  but  they  also  point  out  the  possible  good ;  they  are  eager  for 
the  future,  and  yet  they  do  not  spurn  the  present ;  Colossi,  they 
firmly  span  from  the  old  to  the  new. 

The  lovers  of  the  humanities,  nevertheless,  had  some  reason 
on  their  side  when  they  dreaded  the  entrance  of  science.  Science 
as  it  is  at  present  has  a  strong  tendency  to  make  the  world  seem 
a  grinding  necessity  in  which  everything  happens  because  it  could 
not  have  happened  otherwise,  and  in  which  men  act  but  are  in 
reality  compelled  to  just  such  actions  by  forces  out  of  their 
control.  The  humanities  bring  home  afresh  to  man  his  possibil- 
ities and  responsibilities.  Science  observes  from  the  world  point 
of  view ;  the  humanities,  from  the  individual's  point  of  view. 
They  inspire  a  man  by  showing  him  how  the  human  force  in 
individuals  akin  to  him  has  aspired,  struggled  and  endured.  They 
quicken  his  own  sense  of  power.  He  feels  the  virtue  come  into  him. 
He  is  made  eager  for  activity.  He  sees  himself  as  one  of  the 
forces  in  the  universe,  not  simply  an  effect  of  other  forces,  but  a 
force  in  himself,  cause  as  well  as  effect.  Without  this  conscious- 
ness of  possibilities  and  of  responsibilities  men  lack  character. 
They  allow  their  bad  inclinations  free  play.  The  preparation 
which  their  education  has  given  them  they  misuse.  Like  bathers 
come  to  a  beach,  they  do  not  plunge  into  the  surf,  but  are  content 
to  idle  upon  the  sands.  It  is  a  sad  state.  Men  are  alive  for 
great  purposes ;  an  imperfect  world  has  ?ieed  of  them.  In 
the  fact  that  the  world  is  imperfect  and  that  we  have  a  power 
in  us  which  can  make  for  perfection  lies  the  reason  for  our 
existence.  He  who  lets  that  divine  power  rust  in  him  unused 
loses  the  dignity  and  the  glory  of  life. 

There  is  no  sufficient  reason  why  any  graduate  of  Harvard 
should  have  either  ineffective  ideals  or  a  low  conception  of  the 
part  he  has  to  do  in  the  world.  There  is  no  other  college  in 
this  country,  at  least,  which  offers  such  rich  opportunities  for 
preparing  men  to  avail,  and  to  avail  for  worthy  ends.  The 
men   who   rightly  use  these   opportunities   find   opened  to   them 


26 

the  world's  inheritance  of  knowledge, —  the  conjectures,  blunders 
and  discoveries  of  other  men.  They  gain  insight  into  the  laws 
according  to  which  the  forces  of  the  world  act,  and  with  the 
known  laws  they  go  forth  armed  against  the  unknown  facts  they 
will  encounter. 

And  more  precious  still,  their  view  is  broadened.  They  see 
things  in  just  proportion,  are  made  balanced  in  action,  tolerant  in 
judgment.  They  become  conscious  of  themselves  as  parts  of  a 
great  whole,  and  see  that  the  development  of  that  whole  is  of 
concern  to  them.  It  may  be  that  in  after  life  they  do  not  heap 
up  the  most  material  wealth,  but  they  have  gained  interests  which, 
drawing  upwards,  lend  buoyancy  to  their  lives ;  they  find  them- 
selves useful  and  respected  among  men ;  and  they  are  solaced  in 
all  circumstances  of  life  by  a  sense  of  kinship,  slight  though  it 
may  be,  with  those  rare  men  to  whom  has  been  given  of  the 
wisdom  of  eternity,  on  whom  has  been  spoken  the  benediction  of 
the  universe. 

There  is  a  community  with  noble  things  possible  at  Harvard. 
Here  are  associated  hundreds  of  young  men  who  are  moved  by 
high  ambitions ;  here  are  spent  the  labors  of  many  of  the  most 
earnest  and  high-minded  scholars  of  the  age ;  and  who  is  there 
that  has  not  been  touched  by  the  pure  fame  of  Harvard's  dead  ? 

The  Harvard  life  means  very  different  things  to  different 
students.  Our  interests  have  been  diverse.  Yet  no  one  of  us 
but  will  feel  in  after  life  a  union  of  interest  with  every  other 
member  in  the  class.  Harvard  has  given  us  the  four  years  which 
will  probably  be  the  most  formative  and  inspiring  of  our  lives. 
She  has  done  much  to  make  us  men ;  her  sons,  proud  and 
grateful  to  be  her  sons,  we  shall  bend  together  in  reverence  and 
in  love  to  her, —  Harvard,  Alma  Mater. 


Class  fl>oem, 

CHARLES    MACOMB    FLANDRAU. 

This  summer  day  that  ends  an  episode, 
The  song,  the  feast,  the  resolute  intent 
To  clothe  regret  in  terms  of  merriment, 

For  all  my  flippant  numbers  gloom  forebode. 

Why  came  I  to  this  place,  and  why  have  you 

Showered  gifts  upon  the  stealthy  years  that  seemed 
To  tiptoe  past  us  while  we  lived  and  dreamed  ? 

What  have  we  done,  or  even  failed  to  do  ? 

Like  birds  that,  circling  in  the  cloudless  air, 
Whirl  clamourous  upon  a  quiet  field, 
But,  sheltered  in  the  tranquil  green  things,  yield 

To  all  the  cool,  sweet  influences  there, 

We  found  a  fertile  spot  where  everyone 

Has  harvested  —  some  beating  out  the  grain 
That  others  might  enjoy  a  glinting  rain 

Of  chaff,  or  dress  their  plumage  in  the  sun. 

Nobly  deluded  youth  that  sought  to  wring 

From  bloodless  books  the  knowledge  that  is  power 
Until  the  yellow  cresset  in  the  tower 

Flared  pale  before  the  sun-gate's  opening ; 

And  you,  small  scriveners,  that  dare  to  ply 
Your  little  pens,  and  are  so  fond  to  think 
'Tis  mirrored  in  a  drop  of  feeble  ink 

How  fellow-creatures  love  and  live  and  die ; 


28 


And  you  who  battle  more  with  men  and  less 
With  arid  words  ;  to  whom  Antaeus  gave 
His  charm,  and  bade  your  lion  hearts  beat  brave 

Beneath  that  great  Olympic  restfulness, — 

Yea,  every  one  whose  sheltered  years — now  gone 
With  all  the  eager  tumult  of  their  youth  — 
Are  numbered  in  the  moments  that  make  Truth 

Young,  vigorous  and  fair  to  look  upon. 

What  memory,  with  meanings  infinite 
Of  better  lives  and  simple  happiness, 
Shall  thrill  dead  days,  and  dim  to-morrows  bless, 

Or  flood  a  sunless  hour  with  heaven's  light  ? 

Search  —  you  that  have  them  —  in  your  hearts,  and  you 
Shall  find  some  names,  as  on  an  altar,  there, — 
Dear  names,  that  even  Time  himself  may  spare 

To  bring  new  joy  to  generations  new. 

When  in  the  wind  the  last  frail  lantern  sways, 

And  then  blows  flaming  from  the  shrivelled  stem, 
We'll  seek  our  friends  that  we  may  say  to  them 

Before  we  start  on  our  divergent  ways : 

I  am  beholden  for  what  life  is  worth 

To  the  fair  days  on  which  God  gave  you  birth. 


11\>£  ©ration. 

walter  kirkpatrick  brice. 

Mr.  Chairman,  Ladies  and  Gentlemen,  Classmates  : 

"'The  time  has  come,'  the  walrus  said, 
•To  speak  of  manj  things; 
Of  ships  and  sails  and  sealing-wax, 
Of  cabbages  and  kings.'  " 

When  I  undertook  the  responsibility  of  delivering  the  Ivy 
Oration  for  this  year,  I  did  so  with  a  light  heart.  I  remember  it 
was  a  beautiful  autumn  day,  and  Class  Day  seemed  so  very  far 
away  that  it  never  occurred  to  me  that  it  would  really  come,  and 
—  well,  I  didn't  exactly  know  what  an  Ivy  Oration  was.  The 
year  has  passed  away,  and  Class  Day  is  here,  and  I  still  don't 
know  what  it  is.  This  ignorance  does  not,  I  assure  you,  arise 
from  any  lack  of  interest  on  my  part.  I  have  made  careful  in- 
quiries about  it  from  those  who  might  be  supposed  to  know,  but 
with  most  unsatisfactory  results.  Some  informed  me  that  an  Ivy 
Oration  had  nothing  to  do  with  ivy ;  others,  that  it  wasn't  really 
an  oration  at  all.  This  was  encouraging,  but  it  scarcely  ex- 
hausted the  subject.  One  to  whom  I  applied  said  he  didn't 
exactly  know  what  it  was,  but  it  was  something  humorous ;  but 
when  I  consulted  a  former  victim  of  this  same  spring  trap  in 
which  I  find  myself  caught,  he  told  me  it  was  no  joking  matter. 
On  the  contrary,  he  said,  it  was  serious  —  to  a  degree. 

I  have  finally  come  to  the  conclusion  that  if  there  is  any  joke 
at  all,  it  is  decidedly  on  me.  From  a  careful  study  of  the  card- 
catalogue  in  the  library  I  am  convinced  that  somewhere  in  this 
broad  University  there  is  a  large  volume  explaining  fully  the 
origin,  nature  and  use  of  the  Ivy  Oration,  but  either  my  prede- 
cessor has  thoughtlessly  failed  to  return  it,  or  it  is  now  stacked 
along  with  all  the  other  books  for  which  there  is  a  crying  de- 


3° 

mand,  in  the  basement  of  AppletOl)  Chapel.  In  the  absence  of 
any  specific  information,  I  am  compelled  to  say,  with  Mr.  Car- 
roll's walrus,  that  "  the  time  has  come  to  speak  of  many  things/1 
and  I  may  add,  to  avoid  saying  anything.  It  is  a  time  for  look- 
ing into  Ninety-five's  record  dwelling  on  its  pleasant  features  and 
ignoring  its  unpleasant  ones,  after  the  manner  of  an  epitaph  or 
a  filial  biography.  My  remarks  must,  therefore,  be  in  the  nature 
of  a  reminiscence  of  what  has  been  said  and  done  at  various 
times  and  places,  a  rehash  of  what  we  have  known  before,  - —  a 
veritable  Memorial  dish. 

Whatever  impressions  we  may  have  received  during  our  col- 
lege course,  whatever  the  varied  opinions  we  may  have  held  since 
Phil.  I  first  taught  us  to  think  that  we  thought,  there  is  one 
which  has  remained  paramount  and  impregnable  throughout  all 
that  time,  —  the  impression  that  there  never  was  such  a  class  as 
the  class  of  Ninety-five.  Not  only  have  we  ourselves  felt  instinc- 
tively our  potential  greatness,  but  our  worth  has  been  attested 
by  other  classes.  Ninety-four,  which  came  to  scoff,  remained  to 
wonder  at  our  precocity.  Some  of  them  have  been  so  hypno- 
tized by  the  brilliancy  of  our  career  that  they  have  abandoned 
their  own  class  and  have  remained  to  graduate  with  us.  And 
can  it  be  questioned  that  much  of  Ninety-six's  apparent  superi- 
ority is  due  to  the  presence  among  them  of  an  inspiring  element 
from  Ninety-five? 

Let  us  then  look  back  over  these  four  years  and  see  what  has 
caused  this  great  difference  between  our  Freshman  picture  and 
the  one  taken  just  the  other  day ;  let  us  see  what  Harvard  has 
done  for  us  and  in  just  what  way  we  have  caused  this  startling 
improvement  in  the  University. 

Our  first  impression  on  arriving  in  Cambridge  was  that  we  were 
welcome.  For  two  hundred  and  fifty  years  they  had  been  waiting 
for  us,  and  at  last  we  had  arrived.  Everybody  exerted  himself 
for  our  convenience.  Mr.  Sawin  met  us  at  the  train  and  kindly 
looked  after  our  trunks.  Mr.  Paine  told  us  just  what  furniture 
we  should  need  for  our  rooms.  The  Faculty  gave  us  a  reception 
in  Sanders  and  the  Sophomores  gave  us  another  reception  in  the 
yard.  Even  the  foot-ball  captain  invited  us  personally  to  come  out 
and  join  his  team.     And  how  grateful  we  were  for  all  these  little 


31 

attentions  !  What  a  great  man  we  considered  Mr.  Foster!  And 
even  now  what  tender  memories  we  have  of  the  French  department ! 

From  the  very  first  our  infant  fancies  were  delighted  by  the 
wonderful  expansiveness  of  the  elective  system.  While  we  were 
still  wandering  about  in  a  sort  of  dreamy  Freshman  wonder  as  to 
where  we  were  at,  the  information  was  tendered  us,  by  means  of 
an  Office  postal,  that  we  were  on  probation.  Whereupon  we 
temporarily  abandoned  Sanborn's,  hastened  to  our  own  rooms, 
lighted  our  student  lamps,  and  buried  ourselves  in  the  depths  of 
the  ki  Elements  of  Rhetoric,"  and  Ploetz's  "  Epitome."  Our  lit- 
erary taste  was  developed  to  such  an  extent  that  we  soon  learned 
to  detect  unaided  the  elusive  humor  of  Jane  Austen,  and  thereby 
we  succeeded  in  passing  English  A.  Ever  since  that  time,  "Jane, 
fane,  has  never  been  the  same." 

Our  first  united  effort  toward  quelling  Harvard  Indifference 
was  received  with  extreme  coldness.  Amid  the  rattle  of  musketry 
and  the  roar  of  cannon,  and  with  a  tremendous  outburst  of  class 
enthusiasm,  we  vanquished  Ninety-four  on  the  Jarvis  diamond. 
And  yet,  because  our  triumphal  march  through  Memorial  Hall 
disturbed  the  President  of  the  Crimson  at  his  evening  meal,  our 
performance  was  termed  hopelessly  fresh  —  and  Ninety-two  was 
inconsiderate  enough  to  carry  off  the  championship. 

In  spite  of  the  cold-water  remarks  of  upper  classmen,  we  per- 
ceived this  spirit  to  be  a  good  thing,  and  in  the  next  year  the 
crew  of  the  Ninety-five  boat  proceeded  to  push  it  along.  If  there 
was  anything  left  of  Harvard  Indifference  by  this  time,  it  received 
its  death-blow  at  our  Junior  dinner.  In  the  astounding  success 
of  that  occasion  and  the  enthusiasm  there  displayed,  we  left  a 
glorious  example  for  succeeding  classes  to  follow  —  and  accom- 
plished the  financial  ruin  of  our  Ninety-six  class  treasurer. 

It  was  about  this  period  that  we  made  a  great  discovery.  For 
two  years  we  had  been  struggling  to  unravel  the  intricacies  of  the 
pamphlet  of  courses  —  a  work  which  is  to  the  uninitiated  as 
hopelessly  unintelligible  as  one  of  the  Dean's  charades.  We 
could  not  understand  why  it  was  that  while  we  were  ruining  our 
constitutions  by  attending  nine-o'clocks,  and  fretting  our  young 
lives  out  in  all-night  grinds  for  Mid-years  and  Finals,  a  blase  set 
of  our  companions  revelled  in  three  recitations  a  week,  and  used 


32 

the  examination  period  as  a  kind  of  extra  vacation.  It  all  became 
clear  to  us,  however,  when  we  discovered  the  w  Snap-Hlinb 
Pathfinder,"  a  key  to  the  pamphlet  of  <  ourses.  By  a  careful 
study  of  the  algebraic  symbols  used  in  this  little  tract,  we  were 
soon  competent  to  discern  at  a  glance  the  real  merits  of  a  course 
described  in  the  pamphlet.  Tor  instance,  a  star  before  a  course 
denoted-:  Good  course;  one  recitation  a  week  ;  no  exams  and  no 
attendance  taken.  A  dagger  implied  :  Instructor  docile  ;  no  pre- 
vious experience  necessary  for  working  him.  Whereas,  a  heavy 
underline  meant:  Thiscourse  is  one  without  which  no  college 
man's  career  is  incomplete.  I  Jut  for  this  useful  little  tract  we 
might  have  failed  to  appreciate  the  liberal  education  involved  in 
a  study  of  Semitic  History  or  of  Botany.  We  might  have  neg- 
lected to  enroll  in  Latin  10,  and  so  missed  the  opportunity  of 
learning  how  Greek  girls  did  up  their  back  hair.  And  our  purely 
American  poetic  imaginations  might  never  have  been  stimulated 
by  the  carefully  adjusted  Hellenic  smile  that  illuminates  the 
courses  in  the  Fine  Arts. 

It  has  been  our  lot  to  witness  the  abolition  of  some  old  customs 
as  well  as  to  assist  in  the  inauguration  of  several  new  ones. 
There  seems  to  be  little  doubt  that  Bloody  Monday,  with  its 
accompanying  traditions  as  to  Freshman  punches  and  Sophomore 
rushes  in  the  Yard,  is  a  thing  of  the  past.  And  now  that  it  is 
certainly  dead  the  question  naturally  arises  :  Who  killed  it  ?  As 
for  the  punches,  the  answer  is,  I  am  afraid,  only  too  apparent. 
The  Faculty,  with  startling  unanimity,  decided  that  they  had  too 
long  neglected  the  children,  and  that  ice-cream,  with  all  its  terrors 
of  poison  and  sudden  death,  was  far  better  for  their  little  diges- 
tions. As  for  the  rush,  —  with  all  due  respect  to  the  prowess 
of  the  Yard  policemen  in  suppressing  the  Weld  Glee  Club,  and 
checking  Freshman  base-ball  enthusiasts,  We  must  again  express 
our  acknowledgments  to  the  French  department.     In  the  words 

of  the  song : 

"  I,"  said  the  fly, 
"  With  my  little  red  tie, 
I  killed  the  rush." 

But  our  disappointment  over  this  lost  tradition  has  been 
lessened  by  the  institution  of  two  new  offices.     We  now  have  a 


33 

Regent  who  possesses  the  unhappy  faculty  of  calling  upon  us 
when  we  are  confined  to  our  rooms  by  a  severe  and  sudden 
illness  and  invariably  finding  us  out.  We  have  also  a  Medical 
Adviser  who  has  wonderfully  simplified  the  science  of  medicine 
by  the  revolutionary  discovery  that  all  diseases  are  really  one. 
This  scientific  truth  is  exceedingly  comforting,  because,  in  case 
of  any  feeling  of  sickness  on  our  part,  we  always  know  just  what 
is  the  matter  with  us.  We  may  think  we  perceive  symptoms 
of  toothache  or  water  on  the  knee,  but  we  realize  on  second 
thoughts  that  what  we  really  have  is  measles. 

Many  new  buildings  have  sprung  up  during  our  stay  here 
which  have  done  much  to  adorn  the  campus  and  furnish  material 
for  lectures  on  the  expression  of  the  beautiful.  Ware  Hall  has^ 
become  the  home  of  Freshmen  and  subscription  fiends.  Much- 
heralded  Claverly,  having  burst  upon  thef  academic  world  in 
a  meteoric  blaze  of  glory,  has  subsided  again  into  a  state  of 
quietude  which  is  only  broken  by  an  occasional  afternoon  tea. 
It  is  noted  for  its  remarkable  tank  system,  and  any  one  who  has 
been  admitted  into  its  exclusive  circle  by  its  aristocratic  baron, 
may  be  considered  to  be  fairly  in  the  swim.  This  innovation 
has  so  far  awakened  the  progressive  spirit  of  the  college  that 
an  addition  is  now  being  made  to  the  gymnasium,  a  conspicuous 
feature  in  which  is  to  be  a  bath-tub. 

There  is  another  structure  whose  recent  completion  has  caused 
a  great  stir,  and  much  architectural  criticism  by  men  who  couldn't 
tell  a  basilica  from  a  bicycle,  or  a  campanile  from  an  Adelina 
Patti.  And  yet  in  the  face  of  this  adverse  criticism,  no  champion 
has  appeared  to  defend  it  and  proclaim  its  merits.  It  is  quite 
unnecessary,  however.     The  Fogg  Museum  blows  its  own  horn. 

The  question  has  often  been  asked  by  anxious  mothers  and 
hypothetically  unprejudiced  outsiders :  Is  Harvard  snobbish  ? 
Not  long  ago  one  of  our  leading  Boston  dailies  published  answers 
to  this  question,  signed  by  representative  undergraduates.  The 
signatures  were  very  interesting,  chirographically.  No  one  was 
willing  to  admit  that  Harvard  is  snobbish.  One  man  did,  indeed, 
agree  that  some  men  are  snobbish  here,  but  he  was  a  prominent 
athlete  who  had  just  been  put  on  probation. 


34 

Every  undergraduate  recognizes,  however,  the  distinction  be 

tween  Sports  and  Grinds.  It  is  very  easy  to  tell  these  two 
classes  apart;  even  their  manner  of  salutation  reveals  to  irhaf 
faction  they  belong.  For  instance,  when  one  Grind  meets 
another,  he  slaps  him  on  the  back,  assumes  a  swaggering  air 
and  blurts  out,  "  Hello,  old  Sport  !  How's  the  world  treating  us 
to-day,  eh?      Didn't  see  you  in  at  the  Fops,  last  night." 

The  meeting  of  two  Sports  is  somewhat  like  this,  "  Ah,  good 
morning,  student.  You  look  careworn  this  morning.  Nothing 
the  matter  with  you,  I  hope."  "No,  been  grinding  all  night  for 
a  German  A  exam.  Don't  stop  me  now,  I've  got  to  go  over  to 
the  library  to  finish  a  special  report." 

The  Grind  is  a  mature  youth  who  rejoices  in  a  long  overdue 
crop  of  hair  and  lives  according  to  the  President's  schedule, 
spending  twelve  hours  out  of  the  twenty-four  in  a  vigorous  search 
for  Veritas  and  eighteen  A  +  s.  He  is  adored  at  the  Office  and 
exasperatingly  satisfactory  to  his  parents.  He  receives  every 
known  variety  of  frill  on  his  degree,  revels  in  a  Commencement 
Part,  and  returns  after  graduation  to  become  an  instructor  in 
English  A. 

The  Sport  knows  everything  before  he  arrives,  and  is  conse- 
quently extremely  bored  by  the  courses  he  is  required  to  take. 
He  comes  to  college  to  learn  to  know  men,  and  soon  knows  a 
good  many,  among  others  being  the  Recorder  and  the  Dean. 
As  a  Sophomore  he  learns  to  smoke  a  pipe  in  the  street,  and  by 
the  time  he  is  a  full-fledged  Junior  (sometimes  a  matter  of  four 
or  five  years),  nothing  but  Commonwealth  Avenue  can  hold  him. 
He  everywhere  seeks  for  truth  from  original  sources.  I  have 
known  men  of  this  sort  who  were  so  interested  in  political  history 
that,  in  order  to  investigate  the  subject  more  accurately,  they 
retired  for  a  time  to  Lexington,  the  birthplace  of  American  lib- 
erty. The  Sport  scorns  anything  higher  than  a  plain  degree, 
and  sometimes  gives  that  to  the  Office  to  keep  for  him  for  a 
year  or  two.  If  my  criticism  of  the  Sports  has  seemed  too  hard, 
I  beg  them  to  remember  that  in  a  place  where  all  are  tainted 
with  snobbishness,  it  is  exceedingly  difficult  for  me  to  remain 
entirely  uninfluenced  by  prejudice. 

And  now  Class  Day  has  come  —  our  Class  Day,  so  eagerly 
anticipated  for  its  own  sake,  so  long  dreaded  because  of  its  to- 


35 

morrow.  Before  I  close,  and  se*d  you  forth  into  the  cold,  cold 
world,  I  wish  to  deliver  a  few  timely  warnings  in  regard  to  the 
observance  of  the  day  itself.  Seniors,  don't  be  deceived  into 
thinking  this  is  your  day,  for  it  isn't.  While  you  are  showing 
Aunt  Matilda  the  sights,  inadvertently  taking  Gore  Hall  for  the 
college  chapel  and  planting  the  Washington  Elm  in  the  middle  of 
the  Yard,  and  while  you  are  directing  Uncle  Henry  to  the  near- 
est punch,  the  careless  Junior  will  be  waltzing  with  your  best  girl 
at  one  of  the  swell  spreads.  To  those  of  Harvard's  fair  invaders 
who  have  never  danced  in  the  gymnasium  it  is  only  fair  to  say 
that  evergreen  corners  are  treacherous  places,  and  that  sitting 
out  a  two-step  on  a  pair  of  parallel  bars  is  attended  with  some 
risks.  As  for  those  men  who  insist  on  taking  Class  Day  in  its 
most  serious  aspect,  I  can  assure  them  that  Class  Day  engage- 
ments will  not  preclude  them  from  receiving  a  baccalaureate 
degree  at  Commencement.  Let  us  then  eat,  drink  and  be  merry 
and  whatever  the  morrow  may  bring  forth,  let  us  ever  make  it  a 
glory  to  the  genius  of  Harvard  Ninety-five. 


Glass  ©&e. 

CARLETON  ELDREDGE  NOVES. 

Across  storm-driven  spaces,  our  Lady  of  Truth, 

We  beheld  thee  fair  shining  in  grace, 
And  rapt  by  the  charm  of    thy  radiant  youth, 

We  toiled  for  a  glimpse  of  thy  face. 
In  darkness  and  doubt  thy  smile  was  our  light, 

As  we  looked  from  deep  places  to  thee; 
Though  shaken  by  error,  yet  strong  with  thy  might, 

We  fought  for  the  truth  that  makes  free. 


To  win  thee,  our  Lady,  in  days  that  are  past, 

With  stress  in  fierce  conflict  we  wrought, 
Yet  because  of  thy  fairness,  we  reck  not  the  cost, 

For  thou  art  the  guerdon  we  sought. 
Through  evil  and  good,  with  thee  at  our  side, 

Triumphant  we  pass  on  life's  road ; 
Up  heights  of  achievement  wilt  thou  be  our  guide, 

Till  we  stand  in  the  presence  of  God. 


CLASS    DAY   OFFICERS. 


©rator. 
EDWARD    HENRY    WARREN. 

Poet* 
CHARLES    MACOMB    FLANDRAU. 

f  \>E  ©rator, 
WALTER    KIRKPATRICK    BRICE. 

©Oi0t. 
CARLETON    ELDREDGE   NOYES. 

Afcarabals. 

ROBERT    WALES   EMMONS,   2nd. 
WALTER    MOTHERWELL    BRIGGS. 
ROBERT    DUFFIELD   WRENN. 

d  lags  3>a£  Committee. 

PARKER    WILLIAMS   WHITTEMORE. 
HARRY    FAIRBANKS    HARTWELL. 
ALEXANDER   FRANCIS    STEVENSON. 

Cborteter. 
DANIEL   CROSBY   GREENE,    Jr. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  ILLINOIS  UHBANA 


3  0112  110188239 


